Page 117

CHAPTER

THIRTY-NINE

LYNX

Idon’t recognize the sound of the car. I pause where I’m filling the weekly food list for my pack and strain my ears toward the noise. It’s definitely a motor. And it’s definitely unfamiliar.

Bob looks my way, and we meet eyes.

“I haven’t heard that before either.”

I know that panicking doesn’t help, but it’s determined to hit me anyway. The car is getting closer, and when it cuts out, I could swear it’s near my house.

Shit. Sasha.

Is he back yet? Is he there? Who the fuck has found us, and what the fuck do they want?

I abandon everything I’m doing and run. Bob is right beside me, and we reach home in record time, thundering up the stairs with no thought for what we might find.

And what we find isn’t what I expected.

“Sasha?”

He’s holding his bag with one hand and shoving clothes into it with another.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing.”

“Packing?”

He gives me a quick smile. “My car is done. I can leave.”

My gut sinks so hard I’m almost sick. “You’re leaving?”

He laughs, back still to me as he gathers his things. “I wish I’d had time to grab Jimmity before I went, but I can’t bring myself to go back into that house, you know? But I’m sure I can find another goose in Portland. It’ll be fine.”

“Why the fuck are you going to Portland?” I want to go to him, rip the bag from his hands, and make him sit down and stop saying these things.

“It’s time.” Another quick smile. “This was always the plan, and I’m sure you’ll be relieved to finally be rid of me.”

Relieved? There’s a ringing in my ears that’s coming from nowhere. “What are you talking about?”

He pulls his panties down from where they’re drying—the pastel green lace, my favorite pair—and shoves them into his bag before zipping it closed. “You’ll have your space back again.”

“I don’t want my space back.” I don’t know how I’m talking when the rest of my body feels like it’s abandoned me.

Sasha pauses for the briefest of seconds. “Can I take some food for the road? I know I didn’t work it off, but⁠—”

“No.” No, he doesn’t need food because no, he’s not going anywhere.

“I understand.” He walks past me, shoulder brushing mine, and he’s at the door before I can make myself move.

“You can’t go.”

“It’s fine. Gage promises the car will work fine.”

“But—”